


Covert

by brage



Series: Revealed [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Awkwardness, Doctor John, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, M/M, Medical, Naked Sherlock, Not medical kink, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-20 12:41:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1510835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brage/pseuds/brage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Despite what you think about your ‘transport’,” John used air quotes to emphasize his point,  “it does not simply obey commands to be healthy.  You do actually have to check things over to make sure you are running smoothly.”  </p><p>Sherlock sat up on the sofa, never taking his eyes off of John.  He sighed.  </p><p>“All right, John.  I will comply with your obsessive need to examine me.”</p><p>“Seriously?”</p><p>“I will even make an appointment and come down to the surgery so you can do a proper job of it.”</p><p>‘Uh oh,’ thought John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Creeping Around

**Author's Note:**

> I marked this one okay for teen audience because there is no sex or anything too mature besides a complete physical taking place. Pretty sure what goes on in one of those is something teens know about. It will be getting much more graphic later though and, as I cannot help myself, they will be having sex. 
> 
>  
> 
> This will be part of a series. I will be as quick as I can with completing it but I'm going to warn you up front that I cannot knock out a story a day or anything. I'm confident the next two parts will by up within the next two weeks.
> 
> Also, a huge thank you to my beta reader, snogandgrope, the punctuation and capitalization nazi. She saves you from having to read my horrible mistakes. I have her to thank for the titles as well and for doing so a quick job of getting this done. You're amazing!!

“What are you doing, John?”  Sherlock looked perplexed as he walked into the kitchen.

John brought the earpieces of his stethoscope out of his ears and asked, “What was that?”

“What are you doing?  Why are you listening to your own heart?”

John pulled the instrument out of his own shirt and tapped on the diaphragm as if performing an audio test on a microphone.  “I dunno what’s wrong with this bloody thing.  I couldn’t hear Mrs Bellfrey’s murmur at all yesterday.  I’m not getting any of the high pitch sounds I should.  It must be broken.”  John stared at the stethoscope in disgust.  “Damn thing cost a fortune too.”

Sherlock sighed and took the item from John’s hands.  “It can’t be broken.  It’s a diaphragm with a membrane connected to a hollow tube.  What could possibly be broken?”  Sherlock assessed the thing, turning it over in his hands contemplating on what had gone wrong, taking it apart in his own mind. 

John took the stethoscope from Sherlock’s unresisting hold and put the earpieces back in his own ears, handing Sherlock the chest piece.  “Put this over your heart,” John instructed.

“Wouldn’t it be more efficient if I listened?”

John pulled back on one earpiece.  “I don’t think it’s actually broken.   I think it really just needs to be calibrated properly.”

“Calibrated?”

“Yes.”

At Sherlock’s look of confusion, John continued.  “It’s the latest thing.  We just had the company sales rep come in to the office and show us this little number.  There are small amplifiers within the tubing of the stethoscope.  To calibrate it, you have to pinch the tubing while you’re listening.”  John held his breath a moment, unsure if Sherlock would buy into the load of shite he was feeding him. 

“Mmm…”  Sherlock replied noncommittally before placing the chest piece against his own chest. 

“Here, let me see it.”  John took hold of the other end and guided it to a few different spots, squeezing the tubing between his thumb and forefinger of his other hand as he moved it along, his brow pinched in concentration.  John stopped and had a look of frustration on his face.  “I really need to get this right.  I think if I just … here, have a seat a minute.  Breath sounds are much more high-pitched.”

Sherlock sighed, “dull.” 

“I made you tea.  Just sit and have your tea and read the papers.  You won’t even notice I’m here.”

“Why can’t you calibrate your new doctor toy while you listen to your own lungs then?”

“Lung sounds are much more discernible from the back. It’ll just take a minute and I really would appreciate your help,” John said hopefully.

Sherlock huffed and plopped himself down on a kitchen chair, pulling his dressing gown around himself. 

“You’ll have to move your shirt then,” John looked apologetic.  Sherlock glared but complied, tossing his dressing gown to the floor followed quickly by his button-down shirt.  “There we go.  Take some deep breaths,” John instructed as he, once again, moved the chest piece around Sherlock’s body.

John removed the earpieces and handed Sherlock his shirt.  “Ta, big help that was.  Works much better now.”

“Mmm…” Sherlock nodded as he read the morning paper.  “Lady Dahlek has had her priceless family heirloom pendant stolen last evening from an ‘impenetrable’ safe.  I guess it wasn’t as impenetrable as she thought then, was it?”  Sherlock smiled seemingly having forgotten that he no longer had a shirt on. 

“Do you know who did it?”

“Of course not.  I’m not a magician.  I’d have to see the crime scene, which I wasn’t invited to nor do I have any interest in.”  Sherlock smirked, his eyes still on the article. 

John assessed his friend’s look before he nodded quickly.  “Yeah.  You know.” 

Sherlock smiled and took a sip of his tea. 

 

John looked at the sleeping form of his roommate as he attempted to assess what he could get away with during his nap.  Sherlock had put his button-down shirt back on as well as his red dressing gown hours previous.  He was barefooted but that did John a minimum amount of good in the grand scheme of things.  There is only so much one can tell about the general health of a person just by his feet.  He doubted Sherlock would sleep through a neuro exam which involved some poking, shining a bright light in his eyes, not to mention following commands.  An abdominal assessment would require him rucking up Sherlock’s shirt and the position he had fallen asleep in didn’t permit that to happen without a good deal of rustling about.  No way Sherlock would sleep through it.

It would be so much easier if Sherlock would stop being such a wanker and just have a bloody physical like the rest of society.  Like adults do.  Apparently the Master of His Own Transport is above all that.  John was sure he ran his own labs on himself but John had fixed him up too many times over the last few months to not want a baseline assessment.  It was obvious the man didn’t have his own primary doctor given that he always insisted that John treat his many and sundry injuries.  After doing a look up in the NHS system, he saw that there was no physical exam recorded.  He had plenty of records from early days and some hospital records dated several years ago, all drug-related issues, but it seemed as though Sherlock hadn’t seen a physician in many years.  John sighed and got back to his task.  He had to complete as much of a history and physical as he could without Sherlock knowing.  Knowing would only result in refusal and what Sherlock didn’t know, couldn’t hurt him. 

John noticed Sherlock’s carotid pulse beating against his neck.  It was easily seen with his neck turned the way it was so John decided a good cardiovascular assessment would be easy enough.  He’d already listened to his heart that morning.  Getting his blood pressure would be difficult, but he had a plan for that. 

Once he had finished counting the pulses, he listened to the blood pumping through the large vessel by placing his stethoscope right over the big artery very, very lightly and only after he had warmed the diaphragm up in his hands thoroughly.  Once that was done, Sherlock only twitched slightly as John gently placed his forefinger against the edge of his wrist, feeling for the radial pulse. 

John stared at Sherlock’s bare feet.  He warmed up his own hands by rubbing them together briskly.  Slowly and very quietly, John shifted position and sat on the edge of the coffee table by Sherlock’s feet.  He had one leg bent and hidden under the opposite limb, but the other foot was hanging off the end of the arm of the sofa and easy to access.  Feet were much more sensitive so John knew he’d have to have a soft touch.  He felt like a pervert stalking over Sherlock’s sleeping body, touching him without his consent like this, but, he’d already resigned himself as to the necessity of his actions.  Holding his breath, John reached out, gradually guiding his hand to assess the pulse point on Sherlock’s pale foot.  If Sherlock slept through this, John decided he could probably get away with a look into at least one of his ears with the otoscope he brought home from the surgery. 

Sherlock’s eyes snapped open at the feel of John’s hand wrapped around his bare foot.  He hissed in a breath of air and rolled his eyes.  “John.”

John let go of his flatmate and jumped back as though he’d been burned.  “Dammit, you’re a light sleeper … Jeezus Sherlock!” 

“You think I’m a light sleeper because I felt my foot being manhandled while I’m having a kip on the sofa?  Mrs. Hudson at 2am doped up on her herbal soothers would have woken to that stimulus, John.”

“Sorry … sorry, I was just …”

“You were examining my feet.  Why?”

“I was just … they looked cold, so …”

“No.”

“What?”

“You’re obviously attempting to complete a physical examination without me knowing about it.  If you’d thought my feet were cold, you would have simply put a blanket over them.  If you were just trying to assess if they were cold, you would have put the back of your hand against the bottom of my foot.  Back of the hand is more sensitive to temperature.  You were assessing my pulse.  Physical exam, obviously.  You didn’t ask me because you’re certain I would refuse, rightfully so.  Although I am curious to see how you would manage the hernia check without my catching on, I think it’s gone on long enough.  Thank you for your services, doctor.  I think we’re through here.”  Sherlock pulled his dressing gown over his feet curling himself up in a ball rolling onto his side facing the back of the sofa. 

“Sherlock … “ 

“Did Mycroft insist or is this sorry attempt your own doing?”

“Sherlock you do need a physical exam.”

“Right.  This is you.” 

“C’mon.  I’ve seen you in all manner of undress.  There is nothing to be afraid of.”

Sherlock turned to glare at John.  “I’m not afraid.  Why would I be afraid?”

“Well then why?  We all have it done.  It’d be different if you were twenty or you didn’t have a drug history or you didn’t go flying about after criminals all the time or you sought medical attention at appropriate times, but you are, in fact, thirty-six years old, you have an extensive drug history, you leap into danger all the time and you are a professional at hiding injuries at the best of times and complete rubbish at taking doctor’s orders to rest and recuperate properly at the worst of times.  You have horrible coping mechanisms when stressed …”

“I do NOT get stressed!”

“Yeah, you do.  When you’re bored, you are stressed.  I have no idea what your blood pressure runs …”

“My blood pressure is …”

“No,” John interrupted before Sherlock could finish his sentence.  “No, you don’t know what it is either.  Despite what you think about your ‘transport’,” John used air quotes to emphasize his point,  “it does not simply obey commands to be healthy.  You do actually have to check things over to make sure you are running smoothly.” 

Sherlock sat up on the sofa, never taking his eyes off of John.  He sighed. 

“All right, John.  I will comply with your obsessive need to examine me.”

“Seriously?”

“I will even make an appointment and come down to the surgery so you can do a proper job of it.”

‘ _Uh oh,_ ’ thought John.

“If …”

“Oh, here we go …” John ran a hand through his hair, looked at his feet knowing this was going to cost him.  He knew it wasn’t going to be that easy.

“If I can examine you afterward.”

John looked up, surprised.  “What?”

“As you know, having a thorough knowledge of the human body has helped me in my work.  So far the only practical knowledge I’ve been exposed to is with corpses.  I would like to examine a living, breathing body …”

“Person,” John corrected.

“Person, and well … you are living and breathing.  More or less.”

John laughed.  “Yes, more or less.”  He gave Sherlock a pensive look.  “What kind of examining will you be doing?”

“Just the basics, maybe some reflexes,” Sherlock shrugged a shoulder dismissively. 

John thought he could probably handle Sherlock with a little rubber hammer tapping at his knees and his elbows.  Knowing Sherlock though, that probably wasn’t going to cut it.  “No drugs,” John demanded.

“Of course not.”

“You’re not going to make me strip down and rub my belly and pat my head or anything humiliating like that.”

“No, not unless you make me do it first.” 

“I have a feeling you’ll find a way to humiliate me regardless.”

“I promise to be … nice.  I won’t do anything you wouldn’t do to any other patient.”

“I’m sorry, did you just promise to be ‘nice’?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“I dunno.  Are you physically capable of being nice?  I’ve never seen that before so I don’t even know what that looks like on you.”

“Oh, shut it.” 

“Oi.”  John thought about the havoc Sherlock could wreak if given free rein on John’s body.  He knew he wasn’t going to get away without being humiliated in some way.  He thought about his own modesty and what Sherlock would most likely subject him to which made John shudder to think about.  He’d been in the military and been in sports so he had seen and had been seen naked by a number of people.  None that would be as scrutinizing as Sherlock but it wasn’t as if he had anything to hide and he wasn’t all that attached to his modesty anyway.  What could possibly go wrong?  “All right, Sherlock, we’ll take turns playing doctor but I have my own quid pro quo.”

“What?”

“You have to stop refusing physical exams.  You submit to a comprehensive one at least once per year and when injured AND you tell me when you’re injured, every time you are injured, not just the ones I witness and not just the ones you feel like bothering with.” 

Sherlock huffed. 

“Sherlock,” John chided. 

“Well, I’ll be propped up on top of the kitchen table all the time, won’t I?”

“Sherlock.”

“All right, fine.  Best to stock up on plasters then.” 

“Or you could be a bit more careful.” 

Sherlock just gave John a dismissive snort as if to say “you don’t really believe that would work, do you?”


	2. Sherlock's Physical

John said goodnight to the last of the office crew for the evening as Sherlock strode in, for once, on time.  Sarah had been understanding about John finally getting Sherlock to actually come in for a physical.  She even offered to do it herself if John thought his and Sherlock’s close, personal relationship might get in the way of his objectivity.  John declined, of course, citing that Sherlock was only allowing John to examine him and he was lucky to have him agree to that. 

Once Sherlock was ushered into a room, he noticed the gown lying on the exam table. 

“I’m not wearing that,” he insisted.

“You can tie it in the front like a dressing gown if you want.”  John moved to the sink to wash his hands before he got started.

“It’s not anything like a dressing gown,” Sherlock scoffed taking off his coat and putting it on the hanger just inside the door. 

“Not any dressing gown you’d deign to wear anyway.”

Sherlock glared.

“Fine, fine, fine.  No gown.  Stand there naked for all I care.”

“Fine.”  Sherlock started taking his clothes off.

John rolled his eyes.  “Just to your boxers for now, Sherlock.  You want me to leave until …”

“No need.  As you’ve said, you’ve seen me before.  Best to get this over with, I think.”  Sherlock had tossed his suit jacket over the side of a chair and was just sliding his button down shirt off of his shoulders and down his arms when he realized he’d forgotten to unbutton his cuffs. 

John watched Sherlock struggle for a few moments before he calmly walked over and took hold of the situation.  “When was the last time you needed someone to help undress you?”

“Uh … I uh …”

“You’re nervous.”  John finished with the cuffs, freeing Sherlock of his posh silk prison. 

“I’m not nervous.  I’m bored and I’m inconvenienced at the trouble I’ve been made to go to in order to satisfy your medical curiosity.  My life has been disrupted so that you can tell me that I need to eat more, smoke less, and stop leaping from building to building in pursuit of criminals, all of which is never going to change in the least so, honestly, why are we bothering with this charade?”

John knew the obfuscation when he saw it and it was especially easy to spot in Sherlock.  The only time he went on a full-on rant was when he was deducing or when he was nervous.  He wasn’t deducing.  John grinned guiltily liking that he was the one with the upper hand for once.  “Yeah, you’re nervous.”

Sherlock huffed.  “Oh, for God’s sake.”  He rolled his eyes and sat with indignation off the edge of the exam table. 

“Trousers?”

“I’d have to stand in order to do that.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that would take away from the dramatic way in which I sat so …”

“Oh, for the … Sherlock?  I can get you an appointment with someone else.  We don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable with me.”

“No!  No, another doctor is not going to let me examine them in return.” 

“If you get a physical with another doctor, I’ll still let you examine me.”

“You would?”

“Yes, of course.  I just want to know that you’re okay.  That’s all.”

Sherlock took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  “No, I’m fine.  You’re fine.  You just … you bring out the petulance in me, I suppose.”

John thought for a moment.  “So, what you’re saying is that you’ve been giving me a hard time for so long you don’t know how to do it any other way.”

“Yep,” Sherlock said with exaggerated emphasis on the ‘p’. 

“Got it.”  John felt like a parent trying to get his 5-year-old to take his medicine.  Well, when in Rome… “How about if we go over to the scale and get your weight?  Then you’d have an alternative reason to stand besides me asking you to do it, you can get your trousers off at the same time and when we’re done you can still sit down on the table with as much drama as you like.” 

“Well now you’re just making me sound like a child.”

John sighed, “if the shoe fits.” 

Sherlock glared but stood and complied, sauntering across the room to the scale. 

“Sixty-four kilos,” John announced, “making your BMI roughly around 19.”

“Perfectly normal.”

“It’s the low end of normal.” 

Sherlock had moved off of the scale and obviously decided to undress while John hopped up on his soapbox.

John was aware that Sherlock probably hadn’t heard a word he’d said even as he rounded the corner of the topic of sugar is brain food and that he would actually think better if he did, in fact, eat every now and again when he suddenly stopped short.  “What in the hell are you wearing?”

Sherlock looked down at himself, confused.  He wiggled his toes.  “Should I take off my socks?”

“I’m not talking about your socks.”  John raised an eyebrow.  “I’ve never seen you in those pants before.”

Sherlock stood up straight and furrowed his brow.  “Three points.  I wasn’t aware you memorized all of my pants. 2--Why would you see me in my pants in the first place, and 3—they’re new.”

“Uh, 1 —I see you in your pants almost every day coming out of the shower.  You’re not exactly Mr Modesty at home and 2—you don’t ever where those kind of pants.”

Sherlock cocked his head and gave John a smirk.  “I like them.  They’re sort of … firm.”

“Firm?”

“Yes, you know … er …,” Sherlock made a cupping motion with his hand.  “supportive.”

“Dolce and Gabbana low-rise, boxer briefs.  I like the polka dots.  Very pretty.  Only I didn’t know you were going to buy sexy lingerie for me or I would have … I dunno, brought flowers or something.”  John teased. 

“Oh, haha.”  Sherlock strolled confidently back over to the table and did, in fact, sigh and take his position sitting atop of it in as haughty a fashion as he could muster. 

John stepped closer.  “Right then.  We’ll start off with the basics.”

“You speak as a plural entity when you’re in doctor mode, you know.”

“What?  Oh, right.  Sorry.”  John quirked the corner of his mouth.  “Habit, I s’pose.  **_I_** will start with the basics, all right?”

“Yes, John.  No need to guide me through it.  Just …”  he waved a dismissive hand, “…do whatever you do.” 

“Right.”  John pulled out his stethoscope pressing it into Sherlock’s chest with his left hand just as he was placing a supportive hand high on Sherlock’s back with his right.  Sherlock’s back arched reflexively as he sucked in a gasp of air.  John pulled his hands away quickly and pulled the instrument away from his ears.  “Sorry.  You all right?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes.  “Yes, of course.”  At John’s look of confusion, he continued, “your hands are cold.”

“O-kay.  Sorry.”  John rubbed his hands together for a few moments.  “Let’s try this again, shall we?”

Sherlock nodded. 

John listened intently as Sherlock breathed.  He switched sides and started listening to his back.  A moment later he pulled the stethoscope out of his ears again.  “Are you cold?”

“No.”

“You have goosebumps all over your body.  Are you all right?”

Sherlock sighed.  “Get on with it.” 

John finished listening quickly and draped the stethoscope around his neck and then began palpating glands and pulses in Sherlock’s neck and armpits.  Sherlock couldn’t help a short giggle when he felt his flatmate feel his armpit. 

“Bit ticklish, huh?”

“I guess so.”

“You didn’t know you were ticklish?”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

“You and Mycroft didn’t have tickle fights when you were kids?”

“You have actually met my brother, haven’t you?”

“I guess he doesn’t really strike me as the ‘wrestle around on the floor’ kind of guy I s’pose.”

“No.” 

“Still though, your mom or dad?”

“John…”

“Sorry, sorry.”  John shut up about it and decided he would stop trying to investigate Sherlock’s childhood.  He patted the table.  “Lie back for me.  I’ll have a look at your belly.”

“My belly?” 

“Fine.  I’m going to do an abdominal assessment.  Is that better?”

Sherlock shrugged but complied quickly, lying flat with his legs straight out. 

After John had a listen, he began to press the flat of his fingertips into Sherlock’s belly doing a complete work up, concentrated on getting to know Sherlock’s baseline physical information.  Suddenly his assessment was cut short when Sherlock sat straight up, forearms crossed in front of him and resting on his lap. 

“Whoa, what’s wrong?”

“I’ll have that gown now, please,” Sherlock said insistently. 

“What’s the matter, Sherl…”

“Gown please.” 

“All right, calm down.  I got it.”  John unfolded it and held it up to Sherlock who snatched it away quickly and pulled it into his lap first and then bothered to wrestle with the sleeves.  John realized what was going on and thought he should reassure his friend.  “It’s really fine you know.  It’s a perfectly natural reaction.”

“Oh, do shut up, John.” 

“Okay, okay.  How about if I give you a couple minutes to … calm down then, shall I?”

Sherlock closed his eyes tightly and nodded. 

“I’ll go get you some cold water, yeah?”

“Yes.”


	3. It's Only Natural

John knocked before slipping back into the exam room several minutes later, glass of water in hand.  He offered it silently to Sherlock who accepted it without a word, without eye contact. 

After another few moments of silence, John raised a finger and said, “it was her maid, wasn’t it?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Lady Dahlik’s pendant.  It was her maid, right?”

Sherlock gave a relieved sigh, “No, no … couldn’t have been.  She’d been with the Dahliks for ages.  No she doesn’t play into it at all.”  Sherlock resumed his position back on the exam table as John continued his assessment on auto-pilot while they both continued to banter about The Work as though they were simply conversing at the breakfast table. 

John was able to get through a full neurological, cardiovascular and musculoskeletal assessment of his patient as they simply chatted away. 

John pulled on a pair of medical gloves and sat on a small padded stool, rolling it closer to Sherlock.  “Okay, I need you to stand for me and drop your pants,” John tried to give the instructions with as little amount of fanfare as possible.  He really wanted to keep up the ‘business as usual’ air they had going on but he knew once you told someone to get bare naked in front of you, the tone tended to change. 

“John …” Sherlock began and John knew he had a plan to try to get out of the full-Monty, so to speak.  “I do understand the importance of caring for one’s health, especially given the way you and I launch ourselves into danger the way we do …”

_‘Oh, this is gonna be rich.’_   “Right right.”  John nodded thoughtfully.

“Which is why I completely understand the rather thorough neurological assessment and the … uh … the …”

“Musculoskeletal?”

“Right, the musculoskeletal assessment.  Fantastic really.  Very professional job, that.”

“Ta.”

“In the broad scheme of things,” Sherlock continued, “in my opinion, given the reasoning behind your wanting this assessment done in the first place, I don’t really see how this,” he pointed to John’s gloved hands, “has any bearing on my physical well-being.” 

John furrowed his eyebrows in mock thought.  “Hmm.  Well, do you take your penis with you when you fight crime and chase bad guys?”

“John.”

“Was your penis still attached when you were doing drugs?”

Sherlock sighed. 

“Are your testicles thirty-seven years old like you are?  ‘Cus if they are, they should really be checked over a bit more than once every two decades.”

Sherlock gave a tight-lipped smile. 

“Stand up and drop your pants, you berk,” John smiled.  It was a nice try on Sherlock’s part.   

Sherlock sighed before he finally stood up, steeled himself into position, looking straight forward, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear and pulled down.  They were tight around his thighs and John moved them down out of his way. 

“Here, hold your gown up, please.  I need to be able to see you.”  John scrunched the gown together and handed the tail up to Sherlock who huffed, pulled it off and tossed it aside.  “All right then.”  John cleared his throat and moved closer.  “Trust me.  I’m a doctor.” 

“Oh for God’s sake, John.”

John laughed.  “Oh c’mon, that was a bit funny, yeah?”

“As always, John, you overestimate your own ability at humor.”

“Everyone’s a critic.”  John took hold of Sherlock’s testicles and began rolling them between his thumb and forefinger assessing for abnormalities.  He did some squeezing and prodding and soon he heard Sherlock muttering to himself and taking in deep, purposeful breaths.  “You all right?”

Sherlock pointedly did not answer.

John noticed the penis in his hands begin to swell and firm up.  Quickly, he began to move the exam along so he could hopefully finish up and prevent Sherlock at least some embarrassment.  “Just relax.  It’s fine.”

“Stop.”

John stopped instantly and moved back.  Sherlock pulled up his pants quickly and reached for the discarded gown once more. 

“Fuck.”  Sherlock said quietly, not willing to look up past the level of anyone’s knees. 

“Sherlock,”

“Don’t … just …”  Sherlock leaned against the exam table and squeezed his eyes closed.  John watched him try to get his breathing under control once more. 

After a few moments, John cleared his throat, swallowed and tried again.  “Sherlock.  There’s no need to be embarrassed.  You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve seen.  Trust me, this isn’t the worst of it.  It happens.  Quite a bit actually.”

Sherlock finally looked up at his roommate, “that … that is a frequent reaction?  You see that happen a lot?”

“Loads of times.”

Sherlock looked uncertain, possibly a bit accusatory as if John was only saying that to make Sherlock feel better.

“I’m serious.  Google it.  I promise you, it happens a lot.” 

Sherlock sat back up onto the exam table and pinched the bridge of his nose.  “I find myself regretting that I didn’t tell you to have Sarah or another physician examine me instead.”

“Ah, yes, I’m sure you meant that to not sound completely insulting.”

“Of course I did, John.  Don’t be ridiculous.”  He finally looked up at his friend.  “I thought I had … more control.”

John nodded once knowing how much that admission cost Sherlock.  Anything besides being in complete control was unacceptable to him.  “Look, I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but I’m not thinking anything different about you.  I’m not weirded out.  You’re a young, healthy man who I know doesn’t go for a lot of … shall we say, stress relief in that area so outside stimulus of any kind is going to be perceived as amplified a bit.  I still think you’re the same berk that uses up all the hot water and never does the shopping and keeps the kitchen a continuous mess.  At your best you have zero personal boundaries.  How many times do I have a wank on an average week?”

“Usually four although it can be as many as five depending on the timing of your meets with Lestrade at the pub,” Sherlock spouted off the information as though it has simply been sitting at the front door of his mind palace just waiting to be accessed. 

John laughed.  “See, I had no doubt whatsoever that you had that information about me.  Can’t say it isn’t a bit creepy, but I can’t stop you from being observant or from doing what it is that you do.  I appreciate that you keep your mouth shut about it though.”

“Yes, but you asked.” 

“Right.  So I did.”  John took a step closer.  “I let you do what you do without the worry of embarrassment or exposure because you’re my flatmate and my partner and my best friend and we can just be ourselves with each other.”

Sherlock nodded. 

“I can go find Sarah to finish this right now if you want or you can just trust me to do what I do without cause for embarrassment or exposure because that is just what we do.”

Sherlock smiled.  “How much more?”

“Well, I have a feeling if I suggest a prostate check you will go into coronary arrest so, just a quick hernia check and we’re done.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, “I appreciate your wiser judgment.”

“Before I rule it out completely, I need to ask you about your urinary habits.  Are you having any urinary symptoms that I should know about?”

“None.”

“No pain or discoloration?”

“Nope.”

“Any difficulty starting your urinary stream.”

“No.”

“Would you tell me if you did?”

“Mmm, no.”

“Fair enough.”

Sherlock stood and assumed the position, pants around his knees once more.  “I’m ready for you to satisfy your curiosity about my bollocks whenever you are, John.”

John laughed and shook his head.  “Complete and utter cock.” 

 

TBC

 

Next:  John’s turn!


End file.
